“Late last night.”
“I thought I locked the doors in case you did,” said Bennett as he peered over the top of the newspaper he was reading.
“Your primitive security device is no match for my superior intellect,” Avery said as he drained his soda. “Hold my calls — I’ll be back later.”
“Where you headed?” asked Kip, as he noticed Avery was wearing his yellow tracksuit instead of his usual in-house attire of a dingy bathrobe.
“I have an appointment this morning with my legal counsel.”
“Who’s suing you now?” Kip asked he got up to refill his cup.
“Everyone. You haven’t really made it to the big time until jealous competitors quit trying to out-achieve you and resort to hiding behind sham legal suits as a strategy.”
“Well, if that’s your yardstick for success, I reckon
“Like I said, hold my calls,” Avery yelled over his shoulder as the door slammed shut.
“I swear to God,” Bennett said, “if that boy ever has an intelligent idea, it’ll die of loneliness.”
It took Avery close to an hour to reach his destination with all the backtracking and sneaking among trees to avoid being tailed. Avery knew that the inevitable moment when the men in black suits rappelled down out of their helicopters to kidnap or assassinate him, it would be at the moment he’d least expect it. As usual, he was taking no chances. Eventually, he made it to his appointment. The sign outside the small office nestled between a dry cleaner and a Chinese restaurant identified it as the Law Office of Gregory Kennesaw Mountain, Esq.
Gregory Mountain wasn’t born as much as he was wrung from a bartender’s rag. He ran a one-man law practice in town, at least when he was sober. He got his middle name from the historic Civil War battle that took place at Kennesaw Mountain in late June of 1864. Gregory’s great great-grandfather, Rufus Mordecai Mountain, served as a colonel in the Army of Tennessee, commanded by General Joseph Johnston. A fortuitous misunderstanding by Rufus Mountain of a direct written order from his commander, a misunderstanding partially caused by the fact that he wasn’t a strong reader and partially because Rufus was knee-knocking drunk at the time, resulted in Rufus leading his men to the wrong spot on the battlefield. In hindsight, it turned out to be the right spot tactically, and the Confederates were able to drive back General Sherman’s Union forces. For his part, Rufus missed the bulk of the battle, as he passed out shortly after the first volleys were fired. His last words to his men before falling face down in the dirt were a series of long, low belches as he pointed his saber at the advancing enemy troops.
“Wake up!” Avery demanded as he stormed into the cramped legal office overflowing with scattered documents and legal journals.
“Don’t shoot!” Mountain called out as he popped up from his face-down position on his desk with both hands raised in the air, leaving a small pool of drool behind on the surface of his desk. “Howdy, son, you’re early for once!” The large attorney wore a red plaid blazer, a yellow paisley tie over a wrinkled white shirt, dirty blue jeans, a seriously gaudy gold pinky ring, and cowboy boots with actual spurs attached. “Who we suing today?” he asked Avery as he wiped off his desk with the palm of his hand. Mountain had been last in his law class, but first in regard to opportunity.
“I’m in a hurry today — let’s make this fast. First order, new business…”
“Slow your britches down, Avery, we’ve got a little old business to attend to first,” Mountain said as he held up a stack of folders. “Patent infringement,” he continued as he began to pick through the pile. “Defamation of character.” He tossed another file aside. “Cease and desist, libel, and the latest one, a restraining order from the mayor of Austin,” Mountain said as he held it up.
“She’s a nobody.”
“She’s the mayor, goddammit, and you can’t keep picketing on her cotton-picking front lawn anymore.”
“Not until she submits to my demands.”
“Son, you can’t put a personal parking meter in front of your stepfather’s house.”
“Quit thinking like a loser,” Avery said as he lifted an unruly pile of legal documents off the split and torn leather couch located against the back wall of the office so he could sit down. “Per my request, did you search your office for listening devices this morning?”
“Look, she says she’ll drop the restraining order, if, for once and for all, you’ll stay off her begonias.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“Be reasonable, Avery.”
“I want to sue her.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“What are the maximum damages I can ask for?”
“I’m not going to sue the mayor of Austin for you, at least not until you pay me. That reminds me,” Mountain said as he pulled out another folder. “You’re being sued for failure to make payment.”
“By who?”
“By me.”
“Outrageous! Counter-sue back.”
“On what grounds?”
“Legal incompetence. Is the reason you call your business a practice because you aren’t very good at it? What are the maximum damages I can ask for?”
“Don’t push your luck, city boy,” Mountain said as he balled his meat hook–sized fists.
“Did you even go to law school?”
“See that little piece of paper on the wall over there!” Mountain pointed to a crooked frame on the wall next to a taped-up torn-out page of Miss October. “It says ‘Vanderbilt’ on it!”
“My good man, I can get you one from Harvard from a Russian online auction site in ten minutes. Want to time me?”
“Son, if crazy were dirt, you’d have enough to cover half the King Ranch,” Mountain said with a chuckle.
“That’s not a half-bad idea,” Avery said, scratching his unruly beard. “Then I could make claim to the mineral rights underneath. Look into it and get back to me.”
“Avery, I can’t keep representing you like this.”
“Of course you can. I’m the perfect client. I’m highly litigious and soon to be wealthy beyond imagination.”
“Did you find financing for Project Alpine yet?”
“I’m still working on it,” Avery replied as he chewed on his fingernails. “Are the articles of incorporation ready to go?”
“Get the money lined up first.” Mountain pulled a fifth of whiskey from his desk drawer and took a slug. “Want some?” He offered the bottle to Avery as he coughed into his sleeve.
“No, thanks. I came by to let you know I’m going to be leaving the country for a while.”
“Son, I hate to be the one to point out the fly in your buttermilk, but that’s not a real good idea, considering the terms of your latest probation. What the hell were you doing breaking into that research lab, anyway?”
“I’ve always wanted a pet monkey.”
“Avery, let me remind you, your probation officer is a real asshole. He’s as mean as rattlesnake with an elephant standing on its tail. Can I give you a little advice, son? Never kick a turd on a hot day. One more slip-up, and you’re headed to the pokey.”
“You don’t intimidate me.”
“I’m not trying to intimidate you, Avery. I’m your friend. I’m trying to advise you.”
“I can walk down the street and get all the advice I need, and for free, I might add. What I’m looking for is counsel, imaginative counsel, courageous counsel, and, most importantly, the kind of counsel that’s slightly left of legal. You know, the kind that actually works.”
“Well, then, as your attorney, I strongly advise you not to leave the country.”
“Duly noted. By the way, what are the documents currently needed for entry into Mexico?”
